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"Heavenly Father," thought she, "how does it happen that he comes to know my name!" "Mrs. Houlaghan, what can I do for you? not that I need ask, for I could give a very good guess at it;" and this he added with a very sage and solemn visage, precisely as if he knew the whole circumstances. "Why, your honor," she replied "but, blessed Father, how did you come to know my name?"
"One Brine Oge M'Gaveran, a good-lookin' vagabone, no doubt, but not worth a copper." "Is she fond of him?" "Troth, to tell you the truth, I'm afeard she is; he has been often seen about the house in the evenin's." "Well, Mrs. Houlaghan, I will tell you how to lay this ghost."
The simple woman, in the agitation of the moment, handed him the amount of his demand, and then collected herself to hear the response, and the means of laying the ghost. "Well, now," said he, "tell me all about this ghost, Mrs. Houlaghan. How long has it been troubling the family?" "Why, then, ever since Frank lost the use of his sight, now goin' upon five months." "When does it appear?"
You have wealth yourselves, and you can make Brine and her comfortable if you wish. You know now how to lay the ghost, Mrs. Houlaghan and that is what I can do for you; but if you do not marry her to Brine Oge, as I said, another ghost will certainly contrive to haunt you. You may now withdraw."
Honlaghan," said he, mildly; "reflect upon what you are about to say, and take your time." "It's a ghost, your reverence," she replied "a ghost that haunts the house." "Very well, Mrs. Houlaghan; the fee for laying a ghost is five shillings; I will trouble you for that sum; we conjurers have no power until we get money from the party concerned, and then we can work with effect."
All the paraphernalia of astrology were exposed upon the same table, at one end of which he sat in an arm-chair, awaiting the commencement of operations. At length a good-looking country-woman, of about forty-five years, made her appearance, and, after a low courtesy, was solemnly motioned to take a seat. "Well, Mrs. Houlaghan," said he, "how do you do?" The poor woman got as pale as death.
A farmer, with a very shrewd and comic expression of countenance, next made his appearance, and taking his hat off and laying it on the floor with his staff across it, took his seat, as he had been motioned to do, upon the chair which Mrs. Houlaghan had just vacated. "Well, my friend," said the conjurer, "what's troubling you?" "A crock o' butther, your honor." "How is that? explain yourself."
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